


Damsel

by YlvaUllsdotter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Crack, Dean Saves The Day, Dean Strikes Out, Fanfiction, Flirty!Dean, One-Shot, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, The Werewolf Dies, Victim!Reader, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 16:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15490224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YlvaUllsdotter/pseuds/YlvaUllsdotter
Summary: Dean needs a break from the research and goes off on a werewolf hunt on his own, leaving Sam back at the Bunker. Turns out the werewolf had a hostage, a young woman, who is less than receptive to Dean’s charm.





	Damsel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [@sorenmarie87](http://sorenmarie87.tumblr.com/)’s Anime Writing Challenge. Prompts are highlighted in the story. Set early in season 13. I apologize for nothing. ~~Except for being so late, I do apologize for that. Sorry.~~

Dean crouched outside the shack to where he had tracked the werewolf. As he checked the magazine on his 1911, making sure it was full of silver bullets, he wished he had his brother there for backup. Keeping an ear out for the muffled sound of the voice on the other side of the wall, he reflected on just how it was that he had found himself in this situation.

* * *

_ Days of research. Literally days. Dean’s eyes were swimming with all the words he had read in that time. He desperately needed to get out of the bunker. Even as he surreptitiously started to browse news articles on the laptop, careful to keep Sam from finding out what he was doing, his phone buzzed. Picking it up, he saw Jody’s number on the display and his spirits immediately picked up. _

_ “Jody, what’s happenin’?” _

_ “Heya, Dean. No word on your missing kid yet, but I’ve got something else for you if you’re interested.” _

_ “Sure!” Dean had tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, but judging from the bitchface Sam shot at him, he had not been successful. Turning away from his brother, he spoke into the phone. “Whatcha got, Jody?” _

_ The Sheriff had told him about a report that had passed across her desk, people disappearing from a campground in Nebraska. It had raised a red flag when one of the missing people had turned up a year later, with unidentifiable bite marks on the bones. The coroner had refused to say they were from an animal, but the local law had chalked it up to animal attack anyway.  _

_ “Sounds like it could be up your alley, no?”  Jody’s tone was uncertain, even over the phone. _

_ “Yeah, could be, Jody. We’ve certainly investigated cases on less. Can you send me the report? I’ll look it over on my way up there.” _

_ “You got it. I’ll email it to you right now. And, Dean? Thanks.” _

_ “Anytime, Jody, you know that. Talk to you later.” _

* * *

Dean slotted the magazine into the gun, careful to keep the noise to a minimum, all too aware of a werewolf’s excellent hearing. Turning around, still crouching, he leaned down a little more and peered in through the basement window. 

The glass was caked in dirt, but it was also cracked. One of the cracks provided him with a view of part of the room, and also let the sound escape. The werewolf had been talking on and off the entire time Dean had been there, so he assumed someone else was in the room. He had been unable to make out words, but from the tone of the voice, he guessed the other person had to be another victim, and it gave him a sense of urgency, wanting to get to the monster before it killed another person.

Dean refrained from trying to catch a glimpse of the other person in the room, knowing he would be unable to. The urge was still there, to get a look at the whole scene, but he suppressed it. Leaning back against the cracked and splintered wood siding of the wall, he took a couple of deep breaths to steady his nerves. The image of Sam’s annoyed face flashed through his mind.

* * *

_ “Dean, we’re on a case! Finding Jack, remember? It’s kind of a priority, don’t you think?” Sam had looked both frustrated and annoyed when Dean told him about the case. _

_ “Sure sure, finding the kid is important, of course, Sam. But if I have to read another book, I am going to stab my eyes out with a blunt spoon.” Dean had sighed heavily. “I need to get out of here, Sammy. And this thing is killing people. You want us to just let them die?” _

_ Sam had made one of his patented bitchfaces and echoed Dean’s sigh. “Fine, go then. Call me if you need backup. You know where I’ll be.” He had picked up the open book that he had let fall to the tabletop while they spoke, and his eyes scanned the text to find his place. _

_ Dean had patted his brother on the shoulder as he passed by. “I’ll only be gone a couple of days.” He had tried to sound reassuring, but Sam had just scoffed as he resumed his reading. _

* * *

Shaking the images out of his mind, Dean refocused on the task at hand. Checking that the safety was off, he checked the window again. The werewolf was turned towards him, in the middle of changing, his eyes going from a non-descript brown to a wolfish yellow-green, and his teeth changing into a wolf’s fangs. The dusty light falling from the dirty window over the changing creature gave the whole scene an eerie look.

Dean pushed off from the wall, a few splinters falling away from the decaying wood as he did so and rustling to the dry grass. He was already at the entrance to the house, focused on saving whoever the monster was about to eat. 

He had checked the door earlier and found it unlocked, so now he opened it carefully, standing to the side of it, just in case. He breathed a small sigh of relief when the hinges stayed silent, then entered the dark hallway. Gripping the gun with both hands, he scanned each room quickly as he passed through the house. The lack of furniture was apparent in the low light filtering in through the dirty windows. 

Dust motes danced in a stray beam of sunlight that found its way through one of the kitchen windows and illuminated the door to the basement. Dean crossed the tiled floor in a few long strides and pressed his back against the wall by the door. He caught himself holding his breath as he carefully turned the doorknob, and exhaled when it was unlocked. 

As he pulled the door open, Dean’s heart nearly stopped when the hinges started to make half a creak. The sound cut off before it even really happened, but Dean still only pulled the door open enough for him to squeeze through. No sense taking unnecessary risks. 

Keeping to one side of the stairs, to avoid further sounds, Dean quickly slipped down the steps. The basement turned out to be a single open space, mostly dark aside from what little light filtered through the caked dirt on the windows. The werewolf had finished changing and was now facing away from Dean. 

Dean quietly stalked closer, wanting to have the best shot possible. The monster was silent now, aside from a low menacing growl, and Dean thought idly that it would have been nice to have the sound of its voice to cover his approach. He hugged the wall furthest from the werewolf, sneaking up behind it.

As he approached, his angle changed and he was able to spot the victim. From the long hair and delicate features, Dean could tell it was a woman, but not much more than that. Her clothes were torn and the sight fueled Dean’s anger. He took a couple more steps, then raised his gun and fired. 

The werewolf’s head exploded as the silver bullet impacted with his skull. The second round tore through the monster’s heart and jerked the body forward even as it was already falling. Dean dismissed the dead body and turned to the woman as he tucked the gun away in his jacket. In the high of the kill, he grinned at her.

**"I never feel more human than when I’m fighting real monsters,"** he commented.

The woman flinched at the sound and seemed to come out of her shock from the gunshots and everything she had seen. She turned her head to look at Dean and he noticed some specks of blood and probably brain matter on her face. Her eyes were wide with what was probably fear and Dean tried his most charming smile on her. When she showed no reaction, the smile faltered and he shrugged before closing with her and holding out a hand to help her up. 

She stared at his hand for so long he was starting to wonder if her brain had been scrambled permanently. Finally, she reached out and took it, using it for leverage to get to her feet. Dean looked her over, estimating by her appearance that she had been there for a couple of days at least. He ignored the smell of her unwashed body and put his arm around her waist, supporting her as he helped her climb the stairs. Once they were outside the house, she pulled away from him and leaned on the porch railing, taking deep breaths. 

Dean stood back and watched her for any signs of panic, but she just seemed to want to breathe the fresh air. After the basement, Dean could understand the impulse. He left her there and walked over to his car, popping the trunk and busying himself with changing out the magazine in his gun, switching from silver bullets to regular rounds. He kept an eye on her though, just in case, so he was prepared when she came up next to him, hiding the arsenal from her. He could only imagine how she would react to that sight.

“You ok?” He turned towards her as he slipped the gun back into his jacket.

She nodded, and she did look calmer, even though there was still a slight look of shock in her eyes. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you into town, you can make your statement to the Sheriff,” he told her after he closed the trunk. He walked her around to the passenger side door and opened it for her. She looked at him blankly for a moment before sliding onto the seat and folding her hands on her lap.

Dean frowned slightly at her demeanor, but since there was little he could do about it at the moment, he simply went around to slide into the driver’s seat. She flinched as the engine rumbled alive and he smiled at her. As they rolled onto the road, he glanced over and tried for small talk.

“So, I guess you like camping, huh? I’m not much for it myself. Prefer my Baby over a tent any day.” He patted the dashboard lovingly. When she gave no response, he kept talking, turning on the charm. With his eyes mostly on the road, he failed to notice her increasingly panicked expression. 

When he pulled up in front of the Sheriff’s station, she all but jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Dean followed, catching up to her on the sidewalk and putting his hand on her arm. She jerked her arm away from him and stared at him hysterically.

“You! You-  **You are batshit crazy, aren’t you?** ” She exclaimed in a disgusted tone. With a last withering glare at Dean, she took off and disappeared into the building. 

Dean stared after her, his mouth open on the words he never got the chance to say. Frowning, he closed his mouth and huffed. “Typical. Not even a thank you.” He huffed again and got back in his car. The rumble of her engine calmed him quickly and he rolled on out of town before anyone could ask the uncomfortable questions. 


End file.
